Diary of a Sentimental
by Qalets
Summary: Chaucer/William -missing scenes before the trail at Rouen
1. To Trudge

Diary of a Sentimental  
  
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what fic is there not?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 1 "To Trudge"  
  
Trudging, however noble, was an extremely exhausting and undignified pursuit for a writer of my calibre. But then again, I hadn't had all that much choice in the matter. The road was long, but my pride was longer, this would end how it would end. And I prayed to god it would do soon.  
  
It was over four hours since I'd left the last town, nameless but for the shame I associated with it, setting off across countryside in search of my last shred of dignity, if, indeed, it existed at all. All through that time, I had walked- walked and thought, as writers tended to do, of places more pleasant than this one. Places in which a soul as unfortunate as myself could be rescued by a white knight in shining armour with simply one flick of their mighty golden tendrils. Ha, like that was likely to happen.  
  
"Morning" I bowed through the group of travellers ahead, looking as weary as myself, but in possession of a damn site more clothing. ".Morning" I repeated, barely glancing at their faces. I'd lost count of the amount of similar groups I'd passed, head up unashamedly, inwardly smirking at their looks of unabashed surprise. As no doubt you will realise, dear reader, as this tale unfolds itself in front of your engrossed and devoted eyes, I've always been an exhibitionist at heart.  
  
"Oi Sir" This motley group, however, was obviously not struck dumb by my apparent nudity as a powerful voice from behind my naked back called out to me in a way that meant not to turn would have been an injustice in itself. And so turn is what I did, and in so doing made the most important of my many mistakes that day.  
  
Ha! I know what you're thinking, my many and so avid readers and fellow appreciators of great and humble writings. Forsooth turning to greet a man who is clearly more interested in your well-being than your naked trudging across the deserted moorland is barely a mistake at all. Surely the pursuit that caused the aforementioned unclothed trudging is the more unforgivable of the two? Well, dear reader, for that well-meant and naïve opinion of my situation you can be forgiven, for to the onlooker of such an event it would seem as though your opinion would be correct. But for a free spirit of my particular breed, the turning of my head at that moment meant a world of mistakes. For as I did turn I met with a glance the very figure of a man that would change my life, my destiny, my naked trudging, forever. And I was caught. Caught in that face. So fair a face. My fair knight.  
  
"What are you doing?" A simple enough question, and one which I met with amusement, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach that meant I could no longer walk away from the group with merely a amused smile and light- hearted wave.  
  
"Err, trudging" The group looked unimpressed and not a bit understanding "You know, to trudge? To trudge the slow, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in his life except the impulse to simply, soldier on." Only blank stares met the onslaught of my creative genius, a reaction that is not all that uncommon I have often found. Oh well, I console myself; all true intellects can never be appreciated within their own time.  
  
"Were you robbed?" Oh, such innocence, I laughed unto my self. How could a man so powerful, be a man to untainted, so untouched by the contaminants of the world, so ready to believe what he wished in order to block out the true horrors of human temperament?  
  
"Err, interesting question actually" Or more specifically an interesting question to answer. "Yes, and at the same time, a huge resounding no" turning to face him again I congratulated myself on my artistic abilities "Its more a sort of involuntary vow of poverty really. But on the brighter side, trudging does represent pride- pride, resolve and faith in the good lord almighty. Please Christ rescue me from my current tribula." And I stepped on a thorn. Perfect, that such a savage object could pierce the long-numbed sole of my foot in such a manner that mimicked exactly how the force of that one mans stare had pierced my very soul. And when I was in full artistic swing as well.  
  
"Who are ya?" It was an important question, and delivered well. Why not such a question be so direct and to the point? It also meant I became aware for only the second time that the strength of the group was more than just the one amazing being at whom I was trying hard not to stare.  
  
"Lily mon suspicious, Lily among the thorns" I greeted the other members of the trio. Did I say also that I was quite the comiqué? "Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writings the game" Perhaps with this crowd the more direct approach would be the more lucrative, I was mistaken "Chaucer? Geoffrey Chaucer? I write?" Another loaded pause "What, what? A writer! You know, I write? With ink and parchment?" These were by far the toughest and most ignorant group I had had the pleasure to come into contact with, but oh, who they included. "For a penny I'll scribble you anything you want, from summonses, decrees, edicts, warrants, patents of nobility, I've even been known to jot down a poem or two if the muse descends. You've probably read my book, 'The Book of the Duchess'?"  
  
I received nothing but two blank looks and one radiantly delicate look of intrigue.  
  
"Fine, well it was allegorical." I gave up.  
  
"Well we wouldn't want to hold that against you, that's for each man to decide for himself" The somewhat, larger, figure of a man who had asked, none too indirectly, about my identity earlier said with passion. It was then that I started to realise that this group were rather more perceptive than I had given them credit, even if he had got hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick, to the point were it confused us all and only in hindsight did I perceive his meaning. At the time, something else arose that caught my attention.  
  
"Did you say patents of nobility?" The angel spoke once again, this time with more fascination in his voice than power. I allowed a slow smile to cross my face as I recognised finally my way into this heavenly embodiment's presence.  
  
"Yes, that's right I did" For the first time I truly studied his face, and recognised a man not dissimilar to myself, a man on the outside, wishing with all his heart to find a way in, a way in and a way up, to change his stars. Suddenly I was seized by the urge to meet these souls who I had met on a coincidence and would love on a lifetime.  
  
"And you gentlemen are.?"  
  
"Well, I am Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein from Gelderland and these here are my faithful squires: Delves of Dodgington and Faulhurst of Crewe" After delivering unto me the most unbelievable of identities the angel motioned first at the larger of his two followers, and second to the lankier. I smiled in response and put out a hand.  
  
"I'm Richard the Lionheart, pleased to meet you" I couldn't contain the laughter in my voice "No, wait a minute I'm Chardamay, no, I'm St John the Baptist" I must admit by this point the heady touch of his hand on mine had possessed me with the joke and I somewhat overdid it.  
  
"Alright. Hold your tongue sir or lose it" And suddenly he was above me, my naked body pushed back onto the grass at the tip of a dagger. His fair face rose over me like the heavenly creature it was, halo of hair framing his face with the power of the mid-day sun. Oh how saintly he looked, how like the knight of my dreams.  
  
I held up my hand to him "Now that," I smiled at his determined face so close to mine "I do believe. Sir Ulrich" and for whatever reason this he was contented with, and he drew away, sheathing his sword.  
  
"Thank you, Geoff" And oh how the angels sang out as his gentle mouth formed my name, that low, beautiful honey-dripping-from-the-comb voice. So perfect and smooth, sweeter than light and warmer than the brush of summers sun on naked skin. A voice that commanded angels like armies, and saw the Lord turn in the sky and look down upon the being that he made and covert the very perfection of its tone and inflection. And. You will stop me if ever I become too sentimental, will you not? For I wouldn't want to bore, however artistically brilliant my lovesick ramblings may be. Luckily for you, dear reader, my devoted reverie was broken by the so-called 'Delves of Dodgington'.  
  
"Have you any more to say, master nude, or, having failed your test, may we be on our way?" Oh they did not know me yet, for at any one time I have a hundred more things to say. But at this moment, the import of halting their determined strides away from my naked self meant that the thing I did impart to them had to be carefully chosen in order to keep them from walking back out of my life.  
  
"Oh you're off to the tournament are you?" Probably not the most beautiful of comments I could have made at that moment, but in the end, it did the trick. At first, however, all it did was spark the attention of 'Faulhurst'.  
  
"This is the road to Rouen is it not?"  
  
"Well, you know" I said, immediately dismissing the idea to pun on the similarity of his words to "Road to Ruin" in the fact that they were clearly not likely to understand and truly appreciate the subtlety of the joke "That remains to be seen, see they're limiting the field at Rouen, noble birth must be established for four generations either side of the family" Finally I'd got their attention once again "Patents of nobility must be provided" If I do say so myself, it was as devious a scheme as any I have ever come across, before and after the time in question.  
  
Thoughtfully I chewed on my lower lip and watched as the angel battled with indecision. What to do? He asked in his gentle sigh, and with his glance at the ground in desperation he called out to me.  
  
"Listen" I spoke after a moment "Clothe me, Shoe me, for goodness sake feed me, let me ride that horse a bit and you will have your patents" And I will have everything I desire, oh angel of my eye, for you will be close to me, close enough, perhaps, to call me "friend".  
  
They turned away then to talk amongst themselves, the angel in their midst obviously the leader of the group, the one in which they looked to for the deciding vote upon my credibility. It was a few moments later when finally the 'Faulhurst' of the group broke away, to the ominous tune of:  
  
"Be nice"  
  
Which he proceeded chant under his breath as he strode unassuredly towards me, not something that one wishes to hear when sat vulnerable and naked upon a grassy verge at the edge of a road- destination unknown. However, I was relatively confident that this small object was of little to no threat, a feeling that was intensified as the other members of his group neatly exploded into laughter behind him as he delivered his threat.  
  
"Betray us," He said, with surprising determination "And I will fong you until your insides are out, your outsides are in, your intrails will become your extrails." And then with copious amounts of nervous mumbling he finished with: "Pain, lots of pain"  
  
I had soon decided that when such a small man was so wound up it would be a mistake to point out his errors of punctuation and vocabulary. Especially the fact that to my knowledge the word "fong" had never, and was never likely to grace the confines of the English language. Nor the French one, I doubt not.  
  
  
  
So that was that, one warning and I was in, part of their merry band no less. Within what seemed like instants clothes were arranged, and produced neatly from the back of their cart as if, instead of would-be knights and squires, they were in fact a pack of travelling magicians, bent on changing the lives of more unfortunate souls, randomly roaming the countryside naked and starving. Which brings me neatly upon the next item upon the agenda, the food, swiftly produced upon one word form the "knight" (and I say it so in the fact that although he may be one at heart, he was nothing until my patents made it so. if I do say so myself) who was fast becoming, in my eyes, the guardian angel of my very existence.  
  
"So," I said, after we had sat in companionable silence for a few moments, staring out at the countryside that lacked nothing in beauty, especially when it encased the being I now sat beside and addressed completely, in a roundabout sort of way. "Perhaps its time I knew who you were?" I looked around at the three that surrounded me, merrily munching on the bread and cheese they had allegedly purchased from the very town that had seen my clothes demise. "And do not try to fob me off with some story of knights and squires, I think perhaps now you owe me something a little more than elaborate stage names."  
  
'Sir Liechtenstein' chuckled at my side. It was the kind of laugh that embodied the word "chuckled" in such a way that I felt it was necessary to use it in order to put across the true sound of his amusement, it was not by choice that such a word had to grace the lines of this paper, you understand.  
  
"You do have quite a mouth on you Mr Chaucer" He said through his smile, a wide grin of a smile that made the warm bark of his eyes glitter in the sunshine.  
  
"Geoff, is fine" I said with a smile, before inclining my head slightly and adding "Sir Ulrich" with such a mocking tone that, although the angel himself may cling to the fantasy that he was, in fact, of noble birth, the other two of his travelling posse became tired with the notion that he out- ranked them and started to relay the tale of their being there.  
  
"His name is William," 'Delves' began, bringing me back to earth through the intense dark pools of 'Williams' eyes, "I am Roland, and this is Wat" Roland continued, motioning to himself and then to the third member of the group. "We're on our way to Rouen to pose as nobility and win some money, there's no harm in admitting it"  
  
"And you plan to make this money jousting?" Surely there is nothing wrong with a man who, when faced with such an unlikely group of people, is somewhat unconvinced by such a tale?  
  
"We plan to make this money jousting" Roland repeated, assuredly.  
  
"What is it out of that fact that you find so hard to believe?" That voice again, pure golden honey on a warm lazy summers afternoon.  
  
"Well, I mean, it's a bit of a thing to have to believe don't you think?" I squinted through the sun to face him, his face emitting just as much purity and light as the sun himself "Can you even joust?"  
  
"Of course I can joust!" Tension was rising.  
  
"He better be able to, or we've suffered for nothing" Wat mumbled angrily from beside me, only serving to increase it.  
  
"You know how good I am Wat," William turned from my stare to face his friend "We could beat any man in France if we so wished"  
  
"You mean you could beat any man in France, we'd just stand there and hold the armour"  
  
William fixed him with a kind of stare that could have wilted flowers, if they were tall and fair and went by the name of Chaucer.  
  
"What are you saying Wat?" And oh how richly smooth his voice when he was concerned.  
  
"I'm saying that I'm fed up of being the little guy when you get to be the Lord, sat up on your high horse like that" He was scrambling to his feet, anger getting the best of him. In his childish outburst I was quick to inwardly praise him of his use of metaphor, but soon realised that it was not, in fact, intentional. "Who said that you got to be the great Knight anyway? No one, that's who! But there you are, prancing around, introducing yourself as Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein" If it was humanly possible to heap more scorn on such a phrase he would certainly have managed it "It's a stupid name if you ask me." And he left, stomping off across the field.  
  
"Well, it was quite an exit" My dramatic mind stated without so much as a second thought, I received only angry stares from the remaining two of the group before Roland scrambled to his feet in much the same ungainly fashion as his friend.  
  
"I'd better be going 'n checking on him then" He bowed out of the group "Wouldn't want him doing himself damage"  
  
So then we were left, the angel and I, sitting atop a grassy ridge, chewing contentedly and staring down at the valley below us- spread out in such a fashion that it seemed to be presenting itself for the approval of this deity beside me. It was one of those moments that had the power to humble even the embodiment of exhibitionism that I myself have grown to be in my few and humble years. Yes, for once, this artiste, that, at any one moment, has ten thousand words swimming around within his literary mind- had nothing to say.  
  
"I never knew that was how he felt." And William, my dear, dear William, hurting as he was that such a close acquaintance would harbour such deep and spiteful feelings towards him, could only sit and stare, and wonder at his own naivety.  
  
"Surely it was obvious?" I asked after a few moments, staring out at the fields before us.  
  
"What was?" A beautifully innocent enquiry.  
  
"That he should feel like that."  
  
"Why should it be?"  
  
"You need to see it from his point of view." I dared a glance into the warmth of those brown eyes and found myself caught, as I had been eternally those long minutes before "Imagine, if you would, that you were Wat and Wat were you, how you would feel to watch your friend and confidant become your superior? Your better?"  
  
"I am no better than he," He answered quickly, breaking my gaze to stare out at the world submitted for his own approval.  
  
"According to the law. according to the patents you have bid me design. you are" My tone was gentle, the kind of tone you would adopt when talking to a small child, or frightened animal, tender, caring- totally and completely in adoration. For not only was this being the most perfect of all souls, but he believed himself not to be, a quaint and attractive trait in any man.  
  
There was silence for a long while in which I watched his blonde head fold to the ground, staring for some time at a single blade of brilliant green grass. Oh how I wished to be that grass, so small, delicate and yet so absorbing to the one creature I wished to pay me such attention.  
  
"I'd not seen it that way," A pause, in which I physically held myself back from holding him in my arms "I suppose it's only right that he is angry"  
  
"I agree that he has reason, but there was no calling to take it out on you so savagely." Indeed, if I had it my way, my dearest William, none would be granted to hurt you so. But I did not bring myself to say it out loud; there are some things that even exhibitionists cannot say. "I think, perhaps, all he needs. is time." Tentatively and as casually as I could manage I reached out a hand and dropped it onto his shoulder, ignoring the purely imaginary sparks that flew at my touch. "Rudolf will do the job"  
  
And suddenly he was laughing, a laugh that lit up my world in such a way that put the sun to shame, and caused the stars in the heavens to collide with one another in pure delight.  
  
"Roland" He laughed, patting my hand were it still lay on my shoulder, the brush of his skin on mine enough to make any lesser being swoon and fall to the ground at his feet. "His name is Roland" A long pause in which his merriment subsided and he let his hand relax across mine to the delight of each and every nerve within my body "And I do hope your faith is well placed, my dear Geoff, I really do"  
  
  
  
Trudging is never quite so exhausting or humiliating when preformed fully clothed amid a group of similarly occupied souls. Perhaps it has something to do with the herding instinct of man, or perhaps just the modesty bestowed on us by the forbidden fruit. Whichever you choose to believe the aforementioned statement is perfectly true, even if one quarter of the group is not communicating with any other but the figure that plods gracelessly by his side.  
  
"Roland?" The quarter in question enquired "Would you mind asking His Highness over there if we could look for a place to stop for the night, one is getting rather tired" His attempt at a more dignified dialect had disastrous results, not that his point was not a valid one, one that I was certain most of the group, including myself, had been pondering for quite some time.  
  
Roland, being the tolerant fellow that he was, immediately drew breath to relay the question to the angelic William (trudging dejectedly across the group from the wronged Wat) who cut him off before he had chance to speak.  
  
"Thank you Roland, I heard what he said" With the manner of an increasingly intolerant school teacher he turned to face the red-head "We will stop as soon as we find somewhere suitable Wat, let me know when such a place presents itself to you"  
  
If I had never known a stony silence until now I would surely have recognised it at that moment. Wat looked away, staring angrily towards the grassy verge as he plodded along, head down. Will also turned away, his brown eyes more anxious than his former friend's, filled with a look that made one want to throw their arms about him and protect him from all the Wat's of the world.  
  
  
  
It could not have been a quarter of an hour later that Roland first observed the barn in the distance, set back a little way from the road and offering in its hay packed lofts exactly the kind of comfort four weary travellers needed to ease their tired bodies. It seemed only moments before we had tied up the horses in the shelter and climbed into the straw, taking out the last of our supplies in relative silence.  
  
"Do you realise, master Chaucer, that you have not said a word in almost a full half hour?" Roland asked. My somewhat, overly exercised mouth and vocabulary had already become a running joke with the group, who made it their duty to comment on my silences in order to spark my one-sided conversation back into full flow. It was not, I had soon realised, just me that was uncomfortable with the silence that had befallen on such seemingly close and intimate friends.  
  
I smiled over at him, shrugging my shoulders dramatically "For once the writer is struck dumb." I said, pausing to take in each of their faces, before continuing powerfully without so much as acknowledging the fact that I had stopped ".by such a foolish and useless rivalry. Surely you, my dear Wat," I said, addressing the fellow in question "would not begrudge William the thing he has wished all his life, when not only he, but you also, will benefit from it if it is to be successful?"  
  
The group were clearly not expecting me to be so serious in my response and stared solidly at me for a full minute before the gaze shifted across to Wat and he was prompted to reply.  
  
"I just don't see why it has to be 'im," He paused- Wat was a man of simple words "We've all dreamed of being knights, why should it be 'im that gets the honour?"  
  
A pause, in which my literary mind replayed all the possible responses I could give him.  
  
"Have you ever thought, dear Wat, that it is you that has the honour? The honour, I tell you, without the pain. The riches without putting your life on the line at the point of every lance? You are his faithful squires, ready in a crisis, but not inside of one each time you mount your horse."  
  
"And have you ever thought," Wat said, standing angrily "that it's none of your damn business?" and he marched away as respectfully as he could across soft hay, stumbling only once.  
  
"He holds a fair point." I admitted, turning back to the others as he disappeared into the darkness. I shrugged "I tried my best"  
  
"And I thank you for it" William said rising and dropping a hand on my shoulder in such a comradely fashion that made my skin tingle and my head soar among the rafters. "But, I think, for tonight at least, he's a lost cause. Goodnight" And he disappeared into the darkness in the opposite direction from the one Wat had stumbled. Roland and I watched him go, before turning back to each other.  
  
"Don't you think you should go after him?" I asked after a moment of contemplatory silence.  
  
"Who? Wat?" He paused "No I don't think so. He'll be quite alright by morning if we give him some time to stew on his own" He chortled to himself for a moment "He's always finding new subjects to worry himself over, I'm just concerned this one may have struck too sore a nerve in master William" I nodded slowly to the floor, before looking up as I realised Roland's gaze lay on the top of my head "Don't you think you ought to check on him?"  
  
"Who? Wat? No I don't think so" I mimicked his response "Whatever 'fonging' may be, it did not sound a particularly pleasurable experience"  
  
Roland chuckled again.  
  
"I meant Will, he'll be needing someone to talk to I doubt not, and you are by far the most qualified man for that job"  
  
I laughed and stood, quite unable to contain the feeling of pleasurable surprise that came from being wanted.  
  
"Well, I'm glad I've found something I'm useful for" And I turned to seek out my lonesome angel, to the warm tones of Roland's quiet amusement.  
  
  
  
"You have a point you know" I found William moments later, stretched out in the straw, arms folded behind his head as he watched the stars through the holes in the roofing. I never would have found him in the darkness if it had not been for those holes, and the way the moonlight played through the gaps to bathe his halo of hair in a warm glow.  
  
"Of course I do" I replied readily, settling myself into the straw beside him, sat up to appreciate the full magnificence of his figure stretched out before me "What point would that be then?"  
  
"Those things you said about putting my life on the line at the tip of every lance."  
  
"Oh you don't want to listen to anything I say," I laughed gently, cutting him off "Most of it's nonsense anyway,"  
  
His smile was broad, teeth glistening in the faint light  
  
"Perhaps that's not the best thing for a writer to confess"  
  
"Perhaps not, but it doesn't make it any less true." I gazed down at him with a secret smile "And in my experience most writers are exactly the same"  
  
He laughed, "I shall remember that"  
  
There was a companionable silence for a few moments in which we studied our respective directions, his up at the heavens, mine down at the heavens.  
  
"It wasn't nonsense," He said after a long while, his voice as rough and smooth as the wash of the ocean rolling over the soft sand. "My master -our master," He laughed gently, more like a sigh than a show of amusement "God rest his soul- died from injuries caused by the joust. That's how I came to take his place"  
  
"I thought as much" A slow and gentle response on my behalf.  
  
Slowly his eyes slid across to meet my own, and I soon lost all ability to ignore the energy that flowed there.  
  
"He. I." He started, before giving up and gathering his thoughts "Am I a fool, Geoff," his gentle tones asked, "for wanting something so badly? Even at risk of my own life?"  
  
Oh William. How you do you, so simple, so naïve, sum up the very call of my soul, the very plea of my heart? Am I a fool, my dear William, for wanting you so? At the expense of everything I have ever held dear?  
  
"No," My voice was a whisper, one I so wanted to believe myself "That is anything but foolish, Will, that is admirable."  
  
Silence.  
  
Soft, gentle silence that settled around us like goose down.  
  
"Then it seems that even stupidity is worthy of admiration, sometimes"  
  
Still his voice was low, low and gentle and so remarkably soft that it felt as if it did not carry, but floated, slowly and stealthily until finally when it saw fit, rather than when the laws of nature commanded it, it made itself known unto my ears.  
  
"I should hope so," I laughed in response, hoping to lighten the tone "Or I shall never be admired"  
  
And it worked. My heart was soaring among the nighttime clouds as his lips curled into a dazzling length of a smile. Beautiful and unmistakable even in the darkness.  
  
"You are not stupid Geoff" He smiled, wickedly "Misguided perhaps."  
  
And suddenly with a gentle cry I was upon him. Pinning his hands to the floor and tickling him with all my might, and he was laughing beneath me and not-all-to-helplessly fighting back, until we were a mess of tangled limbs, and laughing faces, and scattered straw.  
  
I suppose you know what is coming next dear reader, for the moment was more of cliché than I ever would have permitted to grace the lines of an act of fiction. There's no use writing with scenarios people already know, my publisher had once said to me over the discarded manuscript of my first and disastrous book, for if they have already experienced them a thousand times where is the adventure? All stories must be an adventure master Chaucer.  
  
But oh how adventurous a cliché can be! Wrapped in the arms of an angel, his face moments from mine, breath short and warm against the rough skin of my own face -so unlike his! The gentle moonlight lit him beneath me and above me and around me, in such a way that it was though he were the only reality I need ever know, my world, holding me fast.  
  
And so -what else could I do, dear reader, but dissipate all the remaining space there was between our bodies? Through the chocolate brown warmth of his eyes, I lent towards him, finding his smooth, smooth, lips beneath mine and his sweet taste claiming my every sense.  
  
A kiss.  
  
And oh, how the word can never encapsulate the moment. So small a word, nothing compared to the emotions that soared, the senses that reeled, the moments that spread into minutes- sweet ecstasy filled minutes that are burnt into my soul like brands of possession. My William. My dear, dear William, who, when faced with such a moment does not reel away, does not recoil at my touch, at the strength of my desire, the passion of my kiss.  
  
"What was that for?" He asked as we pulled away. His voice was low and sweet, and warm and smooth and any and all of the things that I have previously described it to be.  
  
"I. I've." When all you have wished in the world comes to pass within only hours of first desiring it, it can often lead even the most flamboyant of creatures to lose his tongue "I've not had chance to thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For helping me. clothing me. feeding me."  
  
"So that was gratitude?" His tone was disbelieving, eyebrows raised as he pulled back slightly to take in my whole face.  
  
"That, was. thanks," I said softly ".for your kindness"  
  
He chuckled once again, closer this time, so I could feel each vibration move throughout his chest. "I would never accept such a thing in the spirit of repayment" His tone teetered on the more amused side of mocking.  
  
"Perhaps then," I said slowly closing the gap between our faces- the closeness of our bodies causing me to become bolder both in speech and action. "You will accept it in the spirit of lust and attraction."  
  
"Now that" He laughed between our ever-deepening kisses "I do believe."  
  
  
  
To be continued. 


	2. To Love

Diary of a Sentimental  
  
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what 'fic is there not?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.  
  
Guess wot? Chapter two is here everyone! Thanks for all the great reviews and hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 2 "To Love"  
  
To describe that one night in mere words must be beyond the talents of all the well-known and well-appreciated writers of my time- most obviously including myself. Some of those would dismissively describe the feelings I experienced wrapped in the arms of an angel in a single word: "love". But as with "kiss" it does not even compare to the emotions that took possession of my soul as he held me close.  
  
Waking the next morning to the birdsong in the trees above I lay for what felt like hours and watched the patterns of light from the unmended roof above our head, dance across the angel's body curled naked around mine. The touch of his warm skin, and the gentle tide of his breath against my own was a feeling for which I have not yet found comparison- the elation I felt in that moment is something I will take with me to my grave.  
  
"I can't help noticing, master Chaucer," Spoke my angel with speech shrouded in sleep as he stirred by my side, blonde head rousing itself and looking upwards to find my wakeful stare, "that you seem to be again without clothing"  
  
I laughed, a low and delighted laugh "It seems so, my dear William" Reaching toward him I ran a finger down the side of his still smooth face, "I think, perhaps, its is getting to be somewhat of a pattern with me"  
  
"Perhaps you were robbed," He spoke with a smile, stretching and rolling onto his back to look up at me. Oh how robbed was I at that moment, of every thought and feeling that did not revolve around this one angel- my angel. And I had been robbed that night, robbed savagely of the one thing I had protected in myself for as long as I had lived -my heart.  
  
"Perhaps I was," I whispered, more truthfully than he will ever know, and with a matching smile, I bowed my face to catch his lips gently in a soft morning kiss.  
  
"Oi," A call behind us, "Oi you two!" And again "You seen 'em Wat?"  
  
"Not a peep, thought they was with you"  
  
"No one's with me. I thought they'd gone off to talk to you"  
  
"Didn't hear a thing."  
  
Breaking from our kiss we listened in silence to the shouted conversation on the other side of the hayloft, laughing gently together at their confusion. It was no wonder they couldn't find us -the straw we'd upset during the night now lay about us in a small haven of privacy, cutting us off from their roaming eyes.  
  
".Not that I expected they would." Wat's voice continued, still sore.  
  
"I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason why they didn't come find you Wat," Roland said, level-headed as ever.  
  
"Perfectly good reason" I repeated in a whisper, a laugh playing on my face and I leaned down to once again capture his lips softly beneath my own. Moments later I was on my feet, facing the searching pair as a panicked William desperately reached out to stop me from behind, his efforts unheeded.  
  
"Good morning fella's" Perfectly naked I stood and grinned, cutting Roland off mid-speech so he could merely stand and stare open-mouthed.  
  
"Oh! Oh, oh God!" Disgusted, Wat covered his face "What is it with you and nudity!?"  
  
"Nothing to be embarrassed about Wat, perfectly natural" There was no use hiding the delight I was taking in the moment, as I strode over toward him and ruffled his hair.  
  
"B- But. But still..." Wat's reaction was more than I ever could have hoped for, perfect nervous disgust.  
  
"Can't sleep in anything more." I shrugged "Clothing, although useful, can be so binding at times"  
  
"Now we know why we found him naked" Roland's low voice said amusedly behind me "He probably offered the robbers his clothes before they'd even found his money!" He chuckled to himself, just as amused by Wat's reaction as I was.  
  
"B- You. Wha. I."  
  
"Morning!" There was a call from below us, freeing Wat from his painful efforts to formulate recognisable speech. We turned as one to peer down from the hayloft, finding below us the perfect figure of a happy, and fully clothed, angel.  
  
"William! There you are, we've been calling you for ages" Roland called happy to have found his friend.  
  
"I took a walk," The friend replied with a smile, "Its such a lovely morning."  
  
I smiled idiotically to myself, taking undue pride in the thought that we obviously functioned on similar wavelengths since he had so quickly been able to see my diversion for what it was and use it to his advantage.  
  
"Now come on and lets get moving," Will continued below us "if we hurry we can be at the next town my midday," Having seemingly finished speaking he made to turn away towards the waiting horses, but looked back again after a moment "And for goodness sake Geoff, put some clothes on."  
  
The day passed in the kind of ecstatically haze that you would so expect following such a night. Well, for this lovesick writer it did- I cannot speak for the rest of my travelling companions. Actually, in fact, scratch that, I can speak for the rest (I am the writer of this piece after all), and they spent the day in the same mood as had gone the afternoon before; quiet, bitter and miserable. It got to the point that, 4 hours after we had left the warmth and comfort of the barn and were searching for something to eat in the next town, I finally got thoroughly tired with the lot of them, and left them to argue it out together, deciding instead to see what "entertainments" this town had to offer.  
  
As is obvious, I suppose, when I returned half an hour later after a fruitless search, Wat and William were still sat in that same silent deadlock, while Roland tried desperately to raise the spirits of the group with amusing stories they had no doubt all heard many times before.  
  
One exasperated sigh on my part and we were off again, travelling along the same road that would eventually lead us to Rouen in a silence so uncomfortable I was often seized by the inclination to ease the tension with a song. Something that, as anyone who has actually heard my singing voice can assure you, dear reader, is not the most enjoyable of experiences.  
  
"Will someone bloody well shut him up!" said Wat venomently, the first to break under my tuneless melody. It had taken some time but I had finally managed to pierce the resolve of at least one of my soundless travelling companions.  
  
"Nothing I can do Wat, I have no power over him..." -William's naivety was still endearing to me.  
  
"Couldn't you threaten to leave him behind or something?" Wat continued desperately as I reached the chorus and completely failed to reach a top C I should never have attempted in the first place.  
  
"I could," William was desperately trying not to laugh as I began to integrate a small dance step in my pace to match the tune I was still mercilessly butchering "But I wouldn't mean anything more from me that it would do from you..."  
  
Something in this finally got through to the poor man and suddenly I found my path blocked by a flustered and extremely irate redhead.  
  
"Shut it" He spat, extremely successfully, for out of surprise alone I was struck completely dumb "Or I'll, I'll..."  
  
"'Fong' me?" I asked innocently, eyes meeting Will's across his shoulder and finding there a look of fair and perfect hilarity.  
  
"Yes, yes, I'll 'fong' you until your..."  
  
"I've already had the speech my dear Wat." I held up a hand "And thank you, but it was quite memorable enough the first time" And I continued my song, barely managing to mask the delight that arose as Wat crossed the group in order to get away from me and in so doing matched step with Will.  
  
"We're leaving him behind," He said conspiratorially- the first thing he'd said to him good-naturedly in over 24 hours "The next chance we get, we're tying him up and leaving him behind."  
  
That one song was ultimately, despite the horror of its performance, one of the most successful I have ever undertaken as it cast me once again in the enemy role I should have taken from the beginning, rather than leaving it for the quite undeserving angel who became cast there by Wat. That song realigned the natural order of the group, and, over the course of the afternoon, allowed William to begin the tedious job of prising Wat out of his carefully concocted shell.  
  
Dusk saw a band of four making their way across the moors, walking in twos, the pair at the head of the group deep in conversation, heads bowed together as they walked. While the final pair trudged together in silence, barely able to suppress the delighted grins that threatened to take them over every few minutes.  
  
We stopped that night by the light of the half moon, having walked some way in darkness unnoticed by the pair ahead of us. Roland and I, walking behind, had not wanted to break their private riviere to point out the dissolving daylight, for fear that it may stop their flow of conversation and ruin all the good work they had done so far in rebuilding their friendship. But we need not have worried for the couple continued to talk even as we sat down to eat by the roadside -far to exhausted to find somewhere more substantial to sleep- and barely even noticed when Roland and I made our excuses to find respective places to lay our heads for the night, some way off from the chatting pair.  
  
"You still awake?" A soft voice called to me in the darkness, as a gentle hand reached out to brush against my cheek. Of course I was awake, I thought to myself, turning over to stare into two perfect dark eyes, I would be awake in an instant if this angel ever but whispered my name.  
  
"I am now" I smiled, amused by the secret censor inside my mind.  
  
"Come for a walk with me then." He said, offering his hand to help me up. It was not quite the grand romantic suggestion I could have wished would be uttered from his flawless lips at such an hour, but, for now I supposed, it would do. Reaching to take his proffered hand, I rose to my feet by his side, flashing him a weak smile.  
  
"Lead on, fair knight" I whispered in the darkness, and felt, rather than saw, his smile by my side.  
  
"I am not a knight yet, Geoff," His voice was soft as we turned together to walk from our makeshift camp, the hand which he had held out to me still clasped in my own, sending periodic thrills through my body "that will be decided at Rouen."  
  
"Ability with a lance does not constitute a knight, Will."  
  
"I know," He squeezed my hand gently and I had to fight to control the delighted gasp that it elicited "But it does help" A pause "As will your patents"  
  
"Ahh, I had almost forgotten," I said with a smile "I knew there was a reason I was here"  
  
"You mean other than separating friends and seducing knights?" There was laughter in his voice.  
  
I stopped and pulled him close "I seem to remember the knight in question putting up little fight" My comment was met with his laughter, beautiful and bright in the darkness "But then, you do admit you are a knight?"  
  
"I am if you believe me to be Geoff" His voice blew across my face as he spoke, words sealed with a kiss.  
  
"You have always been, and will always be a knight to this humble writer, Will, you know that" My words were quiet as we broke away, bodies pressed against each other, souls aligned.  
  
"That means a lot, thank you Geoff" Slowly his words filled the space around us with a sigh that was gradually lost in the breeze blowing through the tree branches above our heads.  
  
"And I bet I can name you two others who feel the same" I spoke with a smile; lightening the mood as I turn again, hand entwined in his, to walk on.  
  
Will laughed, "Well, one perhaps, the other needs a little more time to get used to the idea"  
  
"I don't think you have enough faith in yourself, my dear knight, you can be quite persuasive at times" I cast him a smile by my side.  
  
His smile dissolved the darkness around us as he halted us once again, turning to face me.  
  
"I can, can I?" A devilish smile emerged from his angelic face.  
  
"You question my word?" Moving my face closer to his I spoke with menace in my eyes.  
  
He laughed, "Someone very dear to me once told me that most of the things spoken by a writer are nonsense."  
  
And my laugh was cut short as his lips found mine once again, more passionate this time so as to stifle all remaining thoughts and memories that did not lie in the here and now.  
  
It was some time later, as I lay beside him watching the trees filter the moonlight onto his body next to mine as the weather-worn roof had done the night before, that I spoke again, voice sounding alien in the depth of the darkness.  
  
"I love you William Thatcher," I confessed quietly to his still form "and that is anything but nonsense"  
  
But he was already asleep.  
  
The next day passed in much the same manner as the last, four figures, striding across the countryside, this time all united in their journey to Rouen, in pursuit of triumph and riches. The morning had dawned cool and clear, as I had risen at daybreak to find the patch of earth that had once held an angel, empty by my side. He had not gone far, and met me with a sweet, promising kiss over the sleeping bodies of his travel mates as he set about preparing breakfast over the still-glowing embers of the fire he and Wat had built the night before.  
  
Today's pace was quickened somewhat, due to our self-imposed arrival time in Rouen of noon the next day, so travelling was harder, but the food more substantial as we lunched in one town, and then found supper in the next, followed closely by the renting of two (dirt cheap I might add) rooms in the local inn. Tonight we had decided, was the time to care for ourselves- the next day would be a challenging one. What we had not counted on, however, was that for some of us, or rather one of us, the night would be just as draining.  
  
"You're beautiful, you know that?" His voice was that kind of smooth perfection against my ear that meant all rational thought was lost within moments of it being uttered.  
  
"I am not beautiful, I am busy" My mind spoke without my hearts consent, with that kind of flirtatious amusement only possible when the person you desire most in the world has taken it upon themselves to nibble gently at your earlobe.  
  
"You are busy pleasing me, and I believe I can think of more interesting ways of doing just that" His voice was a hot wind against the side of my face as he spoke, eliciting from me what could only be described as a delighted chuckle.  
  
And of course he was right, I thought, as I finally turned from my task and met his eager mouth with my own.  
  
Our rooms were as large as our pockets would provide and as small as would be expected on a down-and-outs salary. Two had been all we were able to afford, and so, much to Will and I's mutual delight we immediately paired off, Wat and Roland in one direction, Will and I in the other. For the first time we had one place totally and completely to ourselves, and were determined to make the best of it.  
  
"You know, if I don't get these finished, there's no way you can fight tomorrow" I spoke slowly, remembering the task at hand and breaking away from him.  
  
The task, as so previously mentioned, was of course my sole reason for being within this heavenly embodiment's presence- the patents. On arriving at a place that was, for the first time, not over run with damp or dirt or insect -and was within distance of the needed supplies- I had decided that the first task that should be undertaken on this night was earning my place beside this angel. Therefore I had dutifully set about preparing the documents, unaided of course by the same angel who relied on them so.  
  
"And do you know," The angel replied immediately, recapturing my waiting lips "That if I do not finish, there is no way I'll sleep tonight?"  
  
And of course I gave in. I've always said that a squire's first considerations should be for the well being of his master.  
  
"I should have known," There was a rustle and a sigh from behind me, followed by a warm, commanding, voice "A writer could never be devoted to anything but his pen" I chuckled in the candlelight, unable to tear myself from a task so near to completion even for an angel. Instead I replied without turning around,  
  
"They do say the pen is mightier than the sword."  
  
". and just as irresistible" He finished  
  
"If I did not know you so well William," I said after an amused pause "I would be certain that you were continuing an almost sexual witticism."  
  
"Well, master Chaucer, if you do not think me capable of such a thing, you cannot know me as truly as you think" There was a smile in his voice. "How long do you think this pen will lay its claim to you?"  
  
"It is hard to tell," A loop on the "y" and I would be almost done "A lifetime perhaps? For you should know very well that a true writer does not think with his mind, but, instead, with his. pen"  
  
"And what does this pen say?" Without turning around I could see the smile on his face, taste the warmth of his mouth on my own.  
  
"It speaks great wisdom," Finally the papers completed, I laid my quill on the table and reached to twist the cap back upon my ink "It tells me that the more time I waste sat at a desk will mean less time I enjoy laid in a bed." I finally turned as I spoke, to find the image of my angel more breathtaking than in my own vision. "Did the light wake you?" More serious now, I smiled at his perfection.  
  
He sighed, smiling at my attentiveness, "No, of course not," He met my eye "I woke when I realised I was alone"  
  
"You weren't alone," I smiled, crossing the room, and tugging from my back the shirt I had pulled on in the cold of the room "And you never will be, Will" I met his lips quickly, as he welcomed me back into his arms beneath the blanket.  
  
"I don't know Geoff, sometimes I feel so," He spoke after a few moments of contemplation in which I settled myself into his embrace,  
  
"Why is that?" My voice was gentle, dreamy in the perfection of the moment, eyes closed in the warm scent of an angel. Again there was gentle silence, his breathing a warm wash of sweetness atop my head.  
  
"Do you think I shall ever meet a girl and fall in love, Geoff?" It is amazing how a moment can completely turn itself about in merely the time it takes to utter a sentence.  
  
"I-I'm sorry?" I stuttered finally through my confusion, propping myself up to look into his face.  
  
"Do you think I'll ever fall in love?" He was sitting up now, meeting my questioning gaze, puzzled in himself as to my own confusion.  
  
"Well, of course, I mean, why not?" So early in the morning (or so late at night, who's to say) even a writer does not have the words to convey confusion and. (there is no other way to say it) .betrayal such as this.  
  
"It's just, women seem to be a rare commodity in this profession. Sometimes I feel I'll never meet that right one, never know." But my mind refused to listen any longer. Slowly, like the sun that was, at that very moment, creeping across the moorland outside the grimy windowpane, realisation was beginning to dawn.  
  
Was I nothing more to him than a comfort? Something to pass the time until his true and rightful partner made their appearance in his life? Was this angel so innocent as to unwillingly commit the greatest sin of all? Breaking a man's heart as he seeks out a "truer" love -one he believes only a woman can give? And was this man, tainted by the world in every respect, ever to know the true touch of an angel? In life and in love? Did he deserve nothing more than to be the passing fancy of a man he would have gladly laid down his life for? Surely no deity could be as cruel as that?  
  
"Have you ever been in love Geoff?" His voice called out to me through my devastation and I was forced to look back into the face I could not help but love with every measure of my soul.  
  
"Yes Will" I spoke finally, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. For a moment I let it rest there, before making the decision I knew would taint the happiness of my life for a good time in the future "A long while ago now."  
  
"Well, 'tis better to have loved and lost. as they say" His eyes held that kind of sadness that made me want to run to the edges of the world if it would help dissipate it. Instead I touched my lips to his- a sweet, tender acceptance of a love I now knew there was no purpose in pursuing.  
  
"You will love, William, and be loved." I spoke into his chestnut eyes, honey-sweet in the candlelight ".I doubt it not"  
  
To be continued. 


	3. To Have Loved and Lost

Diary of a Sentimental  
  
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what fic is there not?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.  
  
Guess what, it's here! I know I've kept you all waiting for far, far too long for this next instalment so in repayment it isn't going to be the last. I have at least one more chapter in the works and I promise from the bottom of my heart not to leave it so long before its uploaded!  
  
Enjoy, and feel free to review! Love you all, miss demeanour xxx  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter 3 "To Have Loved and Lost"  
  
I have never known dawn to rise so slowly, nor the pale moon weave its weary way across the sky in such a long space of sweet time.  
  
The concept of freedom is an idea that has perplexed great authors of every generation, and it was on this night, as day broke with such excruciating slowness that I could be found pondering that very subject. The only conclusion I came to draw in that eternity is that freedom is a concept never to be truly understood. Many would have classed my very situation as I pondered, to be freedom. Laid close to the man I love, warm and safe in his arms. And yet, as I stared into the face of a fallen angel, my heart did not feel free. Instead only a single half lay inside my chest, the other having been sacrificed long before to this earthly cherub and now lay captive, within his ribcage. Trapped there for an eternity.  
  
No, I was anything but free.  
  
"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that Geoff" A sleepily smooth voice spoke through parted lips. I started at the speech; unaware that the angel I had been watching had been conscious of my stare.  
  
"Like what?" I reached out a hand to stroke the smoothness of his pale cheek, as his other rested warmly against my bare chest.  
  
"Like I am the only being worth anything in the world"  
  
He spoke on a sigh, chestnut eyes upturned to mine and I smiled into his gaze, unwontedly happy that he'd interpreted my stare so precisely.  
  
"If you want me to stop gazing at you as such, the only solution is to stop me thinking what I do"  
  
He laughed, "Which is impossible."  
  
"However clever you my be, my knight, you have not the power to change a mans thoughts"  
  
"You amaze me sometimes Geoff. How sentimental you can become at not a moments warning"  
  
"A poets curse" I smiled.  
  
"And a knights nuisance." He spoke with a joke in his voice, but that did not prevent the twisting in my heart as I realised how little this comfortable banter would and could ever mean to him. That was my curse.  
  
And yet, how could loving this heavenly creature be both my curse and my saviour simultaneously?  
  
"Rouen calls" I spoke lightly after a few moments lost in his sugary gaze. "If I don't rouse myself now I'll sleep all day."  
  
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Slowly he tightened his grip on my chest.  
  
"I think Wat and Roland may become suspicious." There was an attempt at laughter in my voice,  
  
"I think it would take more than a lie-in to rouse their suspicions"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like, this, for example" Gently he lent up and captured my mouth with his, the musty taste of the morning clinging to his lips.  
  
"Ahh, that." My voice was a whisper, breathed against his touch.  
  
"And, perhaps, this." His mouth came up again to meet my own as his hand flickered down between our bodies, eliciting a low moan from my throat.  
  
"Yes, I think, that, would be, cause for some, -concern" My voice faulted as his warm grasp took control, and words, slowly, were no longer needed  
  
* * *  
  
A knock.  
  
"Hey guys, you going to sleep all day?" Roland's voice, panic in Will's eyes.  
  
"We'd planned on it" It was an effort to keep my voice steady as I called back.  
  
"Tough luck, want you up and out of there in ten minutes, you hear?"  
  
"We hear .mom" I called in another reply, this time muffled by the warmth of an angel's hair  
  
There was a chuckle from the other side of the door ".forever the comedian" he said, more to himself than to us, before footsteps finally signalled his withdrawal. We both let out a sigh of relief  
  
"Now where were we?"  
  
* * *  
  
The look on Roland's face was a picture when we finally tumbled out of our room, fully clothed, clean and ready for the day ahead. If one man could convey more displeasure in a single glance, I do not know of him.  
  
"You're late" His low authoritative voice caused me to have to fight the urge to hang my head like a naughty schoolboy.  
  
"But we're here now" Will spoke, having seemingly built up an immunity to that voice "So perhaps its time we got going?" I had to repress a smile. Just a few moments ago it had been I that had been the one shepherding us out the door, breaking from his ever-deepening kisses that threatened to leave us stranded in the room when Roland came to follow up on his first wake-up call.  
  
"I'm glad someone's got some sense," Roland said with a smile, following Will's lead "if we're going to make it to Rouen by lunch we'd better be getting going." And he continued to talk, loading our things, and collecting the sleepily sedate Wat from his perch at the edge of the road. Will and I only exchanged glances and followed on behind, our secret smiles reminding me with a tug in my heart that this morning may have been our last.  
  
* * *  
  
Tournament Grounds Rouen  
  
* * *  
  
"May I present my Lord Ulrich, who's mother's father was Shilarch von Rechburg son of the Duke Geld of Saxley, son of Gibling, son of Vendish the fourth earl of Brunswick, the same Vendish who inherited the Fife of Lumberg." I was in full artistic swing. Somehow the sight of so many people looking to me to speak causes me to overdo it somewhat, and I end up pouring my invented soul to them.  
  
"That'll do herald," Sounding not unlike Roland when he'd chastised us that morning the man I was facing cut me off mid-flow "six generations is more than enough. Show me the patents" Without some trepidation I handed over the work I had finished that night, a work of pure fiction, but, I hoped, not obviously so.  
  
As he studied them I could feel the apprehensive stare of William on the curve of my back.  
  
* * *  
  
"I can't believe it, you did it!" Time seemed to fast forward itself until I was stood by my master once again, him atop his horse, looking down on his herald as convention required. I smiled at his excitement, patting the mane of the great horse and trying not to let the game of dice by my side catch my eye "I have to thank you, I didn't think we had a chance" His words began to fade into the background as those small, fateful cubes took my attention.  
  
"My pleasure William, now if you don't mind I think I'll stick around and see how things turn out." By now he had gained my attention once again, our stroll taking us on past the tent and the game.  
  
Suddenly his face was close to mine, causing me to have to fight the sharp intake of breath as his sweet scents assailed me. "Act as my herald and you'll receive a share of the winnings"  
  
But oh, how those winnings mattered so little to me at this moment. At this moment I would have walked to the ends of the earth if he had bid it so, and yet at the same time been infuriated that I was spending a moment out of his heavenly presence.  
  
"Done" A single, simple, sublime word that caused him to clasp my hand in a gesture that rang too formal a chord in my own mind. Unwittingly an image of his naked flesh, warm and golden in the morning sunlight, wrapped itself around my mind on the touch of his hand "now, if you don't mind" I tore myself from his face, wishing to suppress memories there was no longer any use in having "I've got to go and see a man, about a dog"  
  
* * *  
  
The afternoon saw me falling back into the kind of activities I thought I had begun to leave behind with the meeting of Will and followers those few days before. Dice, cards, betting- I wasn't choosy. As long as there was money involved and gambling to be done I was a happy man. For a few hours I was able to put behind me the memory of sweet kisses and even sweeter caresses as I lived from card to card, hand to hand, throw to throw. That was until my winning streak was savagely broken, and the money I didn't have began to be squandered on bets that were a sure thing. until I lost.  
  
And then, as suddenly as the money was gone, the figure I had spent the good part of an afternoon desperately trying to forget, appeared before me. He stood so close I could feel his warm sweet breath on my face, his dark chocolate eyes fixed upon mine.  
  
"You were never robbed were you?" There was such seriousness in his eyes, the warm velvet of his voice caressing my body as softly as those warm hands had done only a few hours before.  
  
"Look," There was nothing else for it but the truth "I have a gambling problem" Desperately I sought to block out the figure of a man to the right of me who looked on, sharpening his knife "I can't help myself, and these people they'll" There was nothing I could do but laugh, a kind of embarrassed, half-sigh of a laugh that only arises in such situations "quite literally take the clothes off your back"  
  
For the third time in as many days I had found myself stood naked in front of a group of practical strangers. In fact I was beginning to think William had beheld me more times without my clothing, than with it.  
  
"What do you expect us to do about it?" My angel asked me powerfully. For a moment I was lost for words, have expected my white knight to come bounding in atop his horse and rescue me from the peril I had created for myself. Somehow I had never expected him to question the reasons why he should do so.  
  
Beside us Peter cut in: "He assured us that you, his liege would pay us" I winced at the scorn he mounted on the word "liege". And yet he was not just my liege, he was my all, my friend, my companion, my love, my day, my night, my angel and, if he wished it, my executioner.  
  
The look Will gave me on that sentence was enough to boil my blood and freeze my heart simultaneously. "Oh" He mouthed as his eyes widened with shock. I could only flinch under his scrutinous gaze and implore with my eyes.  
  
"And who are you?" But he had turned from my gaze, meeting the eye of the man who still stood brandishing his knife with such zest beside us,  
  
"Peter, a humble pardoner and purveyor of religious relics" He nodded his head as he would to nobility and for a second I had to remind myself that in his eyes, not just in my own, William was considered as such.  
  
Will managed to look unimpressed "How much does he owe you?" His voice was unshakable, authoritative, exactly the kind of voice I had imagined he would use as I had begged them to find him before they started taking by force the amounts they were owed.  
  
"Ten gold florins" Simon, from our other side, spoke with relish.  
  
In shock Will's warm eyes widened and slid back to mine in amazement. I caught them for the moment before looking away in shame, as he spun on his heel to look back at his friends, walking away for a short distance and giving Wat the chance to launch himself at me with the battle cry of:  
  
"You lanky git!" And clamping his arms around my head he proceeded to take out his rage on my delicate flesh. I could only cry out in pain and annoyance until Will and Roland came to my rescue, breaking his vice-like grip.  
  
"Oww!" I cried, as I backed away from this small, savage and severely unpredictable man, who could only look rather pleased at himself for my discomfort.  
  
Finally Will took the situation once again in hand, striding confidently up to me and speaking to my debtors with his eyes firmly on mine.  
  
"What would you do to him if I was to refuse?" Slowly, if it was at all possible, my heart broke in two once again inside my chest. Two shards now lay inside my useless ribcage, while the untouched half still rest inside the chest of the man who stood before me, mocking me with its undamaged betrayal.  
  
There was nothing I could do but meet his eye in desperation, seeking out the warmth and passion that had lain in that same gaze that same morning.  
  
It was Simon the Summoner who broke into the private world of our gaze "We, on behalf of the Lord God, will take it from his flesh" And the cold end of his staff was tapped against my naked shoulder, chilling me to my soul. "So that he may understand that gambling is a sin." I cast Simon a glance over my shoulder to signify my annoyance before turning to once again meet the searing gaze of my angel, who only raised his eyebrows to ask silently: "Do you? Do you understand?"  
  
He shouldn't have had to ask me that. I knew. I knew all to well that what I was doing was wrong. I had hurt myself, my friends and the one man I could ever truly wish to love. I was wrong and now the only thing I could do to prove I knew that was plead:  
  
"Oh come on," I'd dropped my voice to address only the beauty before me "Please Will" But even my lowered voice was audible to the rest of the assembled group, who immediately grew suspicious of my mistake. Hurriedly I corrected myself, dropped my eyes for a moment so I would not have to hold his gaze while I used something as impersonal as a false name at such a time "Please will you help me Sir Ulrich." I caught his gaze again "I promise you won't regret it"  
  
For moment I could see the compassion in his eyes, the affection in his face, and my spirits were lifted. Until he opened those perfect full lips and destroyed my world.  
  
"I don't have the money" And for the first time since he had been stood in my presence I could not bring myself to look upon his heavenly face. Instead I stared down at our feet, one pair in armour, the other wearing nothing but streaks of dirt from the muddy floor. I could feel his gaze on the top of my head as I pushed my fingers through my short hair in desperation, but could not bring myself to meet it once again.  
  
"Release him" His voice was low and powerful, commanding in a way no others voice could be "and for gods sake give him back his clothes and you'll get it" Raising my head I once again caught his gaze, the creeping sensation of joy beginning to suffuse throughout my body.  
  
"Done" Cried Simon beside us, his voice muffled by the quiet intensity of Will's gaze, still holding mine, so powerful that he became the only person to inhabit my world. It was only when Simon followed his single word with a click of the fingers in order to propel those around us into action to gather my things, that I was once again transported back into the here and now.  
  
The urge to reach across and kiss Will, to put my soiled hands on those perfect cheeks and tip his head across to meet my mouth in gentleness was almost too much to bear. Instead I had to settle with a nod of deepest thanks, and a silent walk away.  
  
* * *  
  
"You lied" The spell broken, my clothing found, we strode away from the fateful tent into the crowd of the tournament grounds. His voice, although preoccupied with our current destination, still managed to convey the hurt that fact had brought.  
  
"Yes, yes I lied," I tried to block it out "I'm a writer, I give the truth scope" I'd gone back to the same state of mind I had been creating for myself all day, a state of indifference. It was the only way I was going to survive the next few days, weeks, months, years -however long I choose to torture myself in this forbidden heavenly embodiments presence. "Behold, my Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstein." I addressed the massed crowds, only to be cut off.  
  
"Too late he's already been announced"  
  
"Fine"  
  
* * *  
  
Of course he went on to win that match, and the one after it, each victory for him, a victory for me as I became so wrapped in his success I felt each one as if it were my own. Dutifully I attempted to lose myself in the moment, take the day as it came and enjoy the success of my liege, my angel, and my love. It was only the last part of that sentence that weighed down my heart as the day wore on. With two events we barely had any time to catch our breath between matches, as we hurried Will from victory to victory, never mind conversation. That was until late afternoon, when in the spare 10 minutes before Will was due in the arena for the sword final I managed to drag him to one side.  
  
"Geoff, what do you think you're doing, Chaucer!" He cried as I physically dragged him from the main crowd, pinning him behind a tent in a deserted part of the tournament grounds.  
  
"Thanking you," I said simply, pushing myself against his body and catching his lips finally with my own. He laughed against my embrace.  
  
"You think you could do it slightly more gently than that?" He pushed me away lightly, a smile on his face.  
  
"Sorry," I backed off, bowing my head, surprising even myself with the depth of my desire for him still.  
  
"Don't be sorry, just." And he captured my lips again, our kisses deepening quickly, until breath was ragged and hands itching to wander. Instead I broke free, deciding it was not worth the risk, to both our honour (if we were to be caught it would have been the end of Will) and my heart.  
  
"Thank you," I said finally, holding his gaze "I don't know what else to say, I owe you so much"  
  
"You owe me nothing" His heavenly good looks smiled upon me "You owe it yourself to stop gambling"  
  
"I've tried" I spoke softly.  
  
"And you failed" A matter-of-fact "You have to be stronger Geoff"  
  
"I'll try" I smiled sadly at him, unable to tell him the real reason I'd fallen prey to those dice this afternoon, the way I'd placed those bets to forget these moments, these kisses, this touch.  
  
"Then there is no need to thank me" He matched my smile with a stronger one "I shall pay off your debts this one time Geoff, as soon as I have finished winning this tournament." He laughed through his resolution, breaking free from my embrace to resume his walk across the grounds toward the arena. Before suddenly he stopped and turned toward me.  
  
"Oh Geoff, you remember when I told you last night that I feared I would never meet the right lady?" My half-heart did a double somersault inside my chest, and I nodded silently at his delight "Well I need not have feared, for she is here, upon this very ground, the lady I know I shall spend the rest of my life with!"  
  
And with that savage dagger twist, delivered with a smile, he spun around and continued on his way to the first of his victories after he had won my heart all those days ago.  
  
* * *  
  
To be continued. 


	4. To Set Free

Diary of a Sentimental  
  
There's a bit of artistic license involved, but then again in what fic is there not?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, too bad for me.  
  
Here it is folks. The end. Short and sweet. Just a quick warning to you all, I'm keeping to the film so there's gonna be no happy ending in store for Chaucer! Hope its not too depressing though. Enjoy, and thank you all for all you're great reviews over the time I've been writing this, I've really enjoyed it!  
  
Miss demeanour xx  
* * *  
  
Chapter 4 " To Set Free"  
  
"Geoff, 'tis my lady" William's whispered voice broke into my thoughts as we led him into the arena. For a moment I could only look at him in stunned silence as he moved close toward me in order to keep our conversation private, before resolutely I turned to look at the place he was staring.  
  
"Oh Jesu William! You aim too high" It was the only thing I could think of to say in such a situation, quite pointless although it may be. For I knew there was no target too high for this angel, and I knew that the moment the lady revelled in his presence she will fall completely and utterly for his charms. All that I knew, but, God help me, I desperately did not want it to happen.  
  
"Oh if there's another way to aim I don't know it" He spoke with such feeling, and in that moment time physically slowed itself. I stood, three inches from the face I knew I could no longer kiss, no longer touch, no longer love, and I knew that this was the end. Here he stood, so close to me and yet so far, already in his mind he sat beside the vision of a lady in the royal box, the scent of her hair surrounding him, the touch of her skin the only sensation he desired.  
  
It seemed as if we stood close in that moment for an eternity of time. An eternity of time in which I realised that it was truly the moment in which to let this angel go. For what is an angel without his wings? His freedom? A humble writer, such as I, can live within his rib-cage, heart captured in the chest of another. But an angel. An angel is not like other earthly creatures; he must be free to do as he chooses. I must let him be so.  
  
Slowly, as I made my resolution, time resumed its typical pace once again, until in normal time I saw those perfect lips before mine form the words "What should I say to her?"  
  
And with a smile I knew exactly what he should say to her. Leaning close into the warm smell of his skin I whispered my heart into his ear, for him to bestow unto another.  
  
* * *  
  
Life continued. The play of our lives carried on along its way, winding through the turbulence of those short months. Tournament after tournament was won, names fading in the memory but victories growing ever stronger.  
  
And of course there was Jocelyn. Will's "lady". Who became an ever-bigger part of our lives. However always in the background, until one night in Paris when, as I strolled home my pockets heavy with the winnings I had collected that evening, I spied the slim figure of the lady disappearing into Will's tent.  
  
My world stood still as I pressed myself against the fabric of the side of a nearby tent, desperately hoping not to be seen in this private and personal moment. It was a moment I had experienced myself many times, the trepidation, the excitement, the nerves- that soon you will be in the presence -in the arms- of an angel. Taking a deep breath I did my best to suppress the memories that even now threatened to take me over, the feel of his skin, the smell of his hair, the touch of his lips. Another deep breath.  
  
"Gwenevere comes to Lancelot" I spoke under my breath, bestowing my private blessing upon a pairing I wished to be ultimately more successful than my own. All angels should be happy, "Bed him well, my lady, bed him well."  
  
* * *  
  
The End 


End file.
